


local hacker annoys coworkers during important board meeting: what happens next will shock you

by hanktalkin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Light Bondage, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sombra is a Brat, Team Talon (Overwatch), Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 01:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: (spoilers: she gets fucked on the talon war table)





	local hacker annoys coworkers during important board meeting: what happens next will shock you

Leaning against the wall, completely invisible and listening to Doomfist talk about the Ultimate Goal of Humanity, Sombra was almost glad they didn’t let her in these meetings. It was a lot less strategizing and a lot more vague/evil statements said while standing in shadows than she would have thought. At least Doomfist was nice aesthetically. If she ignored how melodramatic it all was, she could have that deep voice ear-fuck her all day.

Ear-fuck as in whisper sweet, sweet dirty talk. Not as in literally put his dick in her ear. That would just be uncomfortable.

Speaking of uncomfortable. As long as she wasn’t doing anything, she could perhaps pass along that uncomfortableness to the less fortunate like some sort of fucked up Santa Claus. There were two members of the meeting that were a) completely unaware of Sombra’s presence, and b) unable to do anything about if they were. If her self-assigned mission was a bust, she might as well have a little fun?

Sombra approached Widowmaker’s chair silently, disturbing not so much as a hair on the carpet. The sniper was looking directly forward, completely intense, posture incredible. Either she honestly bought whatever Doomfist was spilling, or her physical augmentations included having a metal pole up her ass. Considering Sombra had seen what else could fit in Widow’s ass, she highly doubted it was the later.

Leaning carefully over the back of the chair, Sombra blew gently on Widow’s neck.

If the sniper hadn’t already been strung as a bow, she might have stiffened as the warm breeze swirled over lavender skin. Even so, Sombra saw her the subtle change in her eyes as she tired not to react to the sudden stimulus.

Either the sniper didn’t know or could only suspect what had just happened. She gave no clue to it, and even Sombra wouldn’t have seen anything amiss if she hadn’t been looking. No one else had noticed Widows slightly widened eyes or how her fingers now curled over her pen, and Sombra wondered if she could change that.

She shifted further forward on the chair, and flexed her hand like a cat unsheathing its claws. It wasn’t too far from the truth, for when she did five curved fingernails materialized on the outside of her glove.

Widowmaker’s suit didn’t leave much to the imagination, and left even less where it decided not to cover her at all. There was a beautiful diamond of exposed skin just below her back, spider tattoo visible through the minimalistic chair. Sombra pressed her nail to skin, and drew a small swipe up the spider’s leg.

This time, there was no way anyone could miss it. Widow straight up jumped in her seat, banging a knee against the underside of the war table and letting off a small squeak. It wasn’t a loud sound, but Doomfist stopped talking as every head turned and looked at the sniper.

Sombra couldn’t miss this, and she slid from her spot to watch Widow fumble with trying to regain her composure. Doomfist wasn’t used to being interrupted, and Talon wasn’t used their leader being annoyed. Sombra watched Widow turn her mouth into a solid line, embarrassment imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know her. This was just too good.

What must have been a relief to Widow, Doomfist apparently thought the transgression was small enough to look over. He began speaking again, and Widow breathed out ever so slightly.

Well that was fun.

Sombra was smiling to herself now. It seemed like sneaking in here was worth it, even if not the way she’d been anticipating. She craned her neck around, and smiled wider. Right across the lavish oak table was Reaper, her other favorite, sitting arms folded in all his grumpy glory. It was hard to tell by body language alone, but Sombra thought she detected him sending pangs of concern Widowmaker’s way.

Still silent as a church mouse, Sombra made her way around the war table. Reaper would be more difficult, obviously. He was cloaked head-to-toe in armor, and not even his face exposed to twiddle a cheeky feather against. No, Sombra would have to be more creative.

Thirty seconds later, Reaper his fist on the table in sudden shock.

“Reaper,” Doomfist said from the front of the room as all eyes turned on him. “Is there something you wanted to contribute?”

Sombra couldn’t see him, but from her spot under the table she could imagine him slowly unclenching his clawed fist.

“No…” he said, in a voice that was strained even for him. She could imagine him gnashing his teeth like a frustrated hound. “My apologies…sir.”

It wasn’t until she was out in the rest of the room that Sombra noticed Widow and Reaper were sharing a Look™. Sombra was always amazed they could read each other like that, but she withheld the part inside her that wanted to be jealous. She was the outsider to their relationship after all, the newest member and the one still finding where she fit in. (Though if anyone tried to make her admit that out loud, she’d tell them she was happy _fitting in_ right between them *wink* *wink*)

After the meeting, Sombra didn’t try to make her escape. She could tell by the way the other two were looking at each other that she couldn’t even she wanted to. Sure enough, as the multitude of Talon’s best and brightest filed out the door, Reaper and Widow stood just far enough apart that no one could make an exit without bumping into them.

So instead, she played their game, and leaned smugly against the edge of the table facing the door.

As soon as they were alone, she fizzled into existence and said, “oh, is this Conference Room 401-A? I thought it was 401- _B_. Silly me.”

Widow and Reaper stared at her, unamused.

“Yeesh, tough crowd.”

“Sombra, you could be in serious trouble for eavesdropping on a confidential Talon meeting,” Widowmaker warned her.

“Only if I get caught,” Sombra pointed out.

“Yeah,” Reaper said, “but unfortunately for you, you _were_ caught.” On his last word, he stepped forward inhumanly fast and pinned her body to the table with his own.

Sombra dropped her head back and gave her most dramatic eye roll. “Oh, such _serious trouble_ ,” she chided. “What are you going to do? Punish me for sneaking into your Super Secret Girl Scout meeting?”

“No,” Widowmaker said, closing the door to the room with a _click_. Locked in. “However, that is not the only thing you’ve transgressed tonight.”

“Oooo, Alex I’ll take Overly Long Pretentious Words for $800!”

She knew she was playing with fire, but she also wanted to stretch this out, toy with her partners until she could see exactly how this would play. They’d do something soon, she was sure. In fact, she already had a pretty solid idea of what was running through both of their minds.

Reaper shoved her more roughly against the edge of the wood, the curvature digging into her spine. “You embarrassed us today. Both of us, in front of the entire organization.” His voice was laced with showboatmanship, not a drop of real anger in it. Annoyance, yes, but since she was intentionally annoying that part didn’t concern her.

Widowmaker sauntered into view, her voice laced with something that could only be called sultry. “Indeed. And that, _chérie_ , is considerably more bothersome than your little game of spy.” She trailed a finger along the side of Sombra’s face, then tilted her head sideways at Reaper. “What do you say, _oisillon_? Shall we teach her not to be such a brat in public?”

“Yeah,” Reaper said gruffly. “I think we should.”

With that, he lifted his weight off Sombra just long enough to grab her under her arms and haul her onto the table. Sombra yelped, mostly because she banged her inner knee as she was being dragged into position. She was deposited in the middle of the map unceremoniously, Reaper putting one knee on the table so he could get the height. The little flags that marked targets and strongholds went skittering, and Sombra idly wondered if anyone would put them back in place before the next meeting. Probably not.

“Do I get a say in this?” she said, squirming from the pain in her tendon.

Reaper leaned over her, mask billowing smoke from the edges. “If you don’t think you can take your punishment, you’re free to go,” he purred, and the challenge was implied.

Sombra smiled. That had been a bluff. Like she had any intention of not seeing this through to the end.

Widowmaker was already slinking around the side of the table, stepping on a chair to get closer to her prey. She shoved Reaper aside gently, grabbing Sombra’s wrists and pinning them above her head. “Hold still,” she hummed. And—to Sombra’s surprise—she pointed her grappling hook. The claw sunk into the table with a _thunk_ , its wielder already twisting the strong cable into loops around Sombra’s forearms. Cool. Sombra didn’t know it could do that.

It was already tight, and Sombra craned her neck to see the assassin above her. “Saving me for later?” she asked pleasantly.

“You wish,” Widow replied. With a click, she withdrew the spool holding the wire to her wrist and clipped it to the bindings. She pulled back, briefly brushing against Sombra’s face in something that wasn’t so much a kiss as it was a nip to her lip. “Your turn,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Reaper.

Reaper made a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a dark chuckle. They traded places, Sombra now held firmly in place against the table, only her legs free to move about. She made good use of it, and playfully kicked Reaper as he slid by.

Widow pinned her legs with a thud. “None of that _chérie,_ ” she scolded. “You’re going to be a good little girl and take your punishment. Otherwise, how will you learn your lesson?”

“Right. My lesson,” Sombra grinned. “Because that’s what I’m learning right now.”

Sombra didn’t get any more quips in as Reaper unhooked the front of her jacket with one precise claw. Sombra couldn’t help suppress a little gasp. So soon? She was expecting at least a little bit of foreplay beforehand, but maybe they were just doing this to tease her.

Even as she thought it, she felt Widow’s hands sliding up her unprotected thighs, all the way up past her jacket and to the edge of her tights. They curled around, and Sombra could the smug look that on her captor’s face. Fingers dipped into the elastic of her waistband and into the string of her panties, tugging ever so slowly down.

Sombra felt a rush to her face, slowly being exposed while pinned helplessly to the table, her underwear stripped from her while Reaper continued to yank open her jacket. The outmost layer was almost gone, unable to be removed completely while her hands were bound together. That was a good thing probably. Her implant would be a pain if it were left uncushioned against the wooden table.

“Is this how you do crime and punishment here at Talon?” Sombra said, wiggling as she was put on display in gigantic room. “Make a girl blush?”

Reaper responded by unbuttoning another layer underneath her jacket. Now the only thing that was left was her tank top, sticking to her skin as beads of sweat began to form. Her tights were pooled around her knees, and Widow was still going, still sliding them inch by tantalizing inch like she was unwrapping a present.

“Each action deserves its own reward,” Widow said, finally slipping them off Sombra’s calves and over her feet.

Sombra crossed her legs in a sudden flash of modesty. It was short lived, Widow quickly peeling them apart and gently exploring with her fingers. She brushed against wiry hairs, poking and prodding until she stopped teasing enough to push Sombra’s lips apart.

“Guh,” Sombra managed ineloquently as Widow began to toy with her clit.

All this distracted her from Reaper, the masked man pushing her tank top enough so that rode up over her tits. His claws were lost in fabric as he dug behind her, searching for bra hook, not caring if he scraped her exposed flesh in the processes. With a click, he found it, discarding the bra where Widow had tossed the neon pink tights. Sombra craned her head toward them. If she had know she would have been fucked in a public place today, she would have worn matching panties.

Reaper trailed a hand down the side of her face. “I’m going to teach you not to embarrass me in front of my people,” he growled.

She grinned. “So teach me.”

Reaper dug his hand into her exposed side. She hissed, each individual claw poking between her ribs, causing her to squirm despite herself. Fuck. Even after all this time she had almost no resistance to it; every drop of willpower used to keep her from mewling like a newborn kitten. It would be pathetic to start whimpering already.

The fingers sunk in deeper, wounding the same spot over until it bruised. The pain fueled the heat growing between her legs, already a powerful itch with what Widow was doing to her.

Even as she thought that, the sniper poked a finger inside her. Muscles curled around the intrusion, contracting in distracted irritation. Widow pushed in with determination, her other hand taking over the task of squishing against Sombra’s bean.

Sombra couldn’t count fingers, her eyes scrunched closed as she tried not to think about Too Many Things at once. She was panting now, each word that escaped from her throat a gasp. “Is…that…all?”

Not even letting her finish her challenge, Reaper switched his hand to the left side, digging fingers into virgin flesh.

Sombra moaned, bucking around Widow’s fingers and trying not to cave. The old injuries blurred with the new, the right half of her abdomen open and weeping. She couldn’t tell if it had broken skin, but it didn’t matter when it hurt like hell.

The beginnings of tears were pricking her eyes, but she forced them down. It wouldn’t do to ruin the game if someone thought she was actually in trouble.

Reaper noticed anyway, and leaned down to ask in her ear, “ _Estas bien mi amor?_ ”

“ _Sí_ ,” she said with a shaky nod. “ _Estoy bien_.”

That was good enough for him, and he leaned back, getting into the role again. The diversion was quickly forgotten as Widow’s finger twisted hard inside her.

“Ahg, _Dios mío_!” She kicked out a leg without thinking about it, and Widow caught it expertly. She was held in place, slender fingers curling against…“Fuck!”

Reaper pinched a nipple with his free hand, and Sombra arched as Widow’s deft hands rutted her again and again. There was no keeping track of the sounds coming from her as she stumbled to her breaking point. She came with a shaking cry, head smacking back against the wood and pulling on the wire until her wrists burned.

Her whole _everything_ burned. Her implant, her cunt, her wrists, her sides…She withered helplessly under the pressure, finally coming to a choking stop after nearly a minute.

“Ah…haha…” she said, voice garbled.

“Someone’s regretting her irrespect,” Widowmaker said, sliding out to leave Sombra to close on herself.

“Regret…is a strong word,” Sombra managed to pant. “It implies…that I wish I hadn’t done it in the first place.”

“This sounds like she is full of arrogance,” Widow said idly to Reaper. “I suppose we still must fuck a little modesty into her.”

Sombra’s pulse quickened. Part of her wanted to demand rest, but the remainder of her had expected it wouldn’t be over so easily.

“I think you’re right,” Reaper said, brushing aside a lock of Sombra’s hair that had fallen across her face. The gesture almost seemed mockingly affectionate as the blank mask stared down at her. “Lets take it up a notch.”

Sombra watched him through half-lidded eyes as he reached for his belt. The fastening opened with a click, and Sombra couldn’t help but lick her lips as the bulge in his pants strained again its leather confines. She was ravished, sure, but that didn’t mean she didn’t salivate at the sight like a dog to a steak.

“Don’t act too excited,” he warned. “Otherwise I might think you’re not learning anything.”

She chuckled, and she heard Widow break character long enough to give a little snort. Reaper didn’t allow for the insubordination for long, and grabbed the top of her head, fingers tangling in the brown roots. His thumb traced around the metallic implants of her side-cut, and a shiver ran all the way down her spine.

He moved, getting closer to her head until he was almost out of her vision, nothing but his softly swinging balls to fill her view. He barely needed to guide himself into her mouth; she was practically hungry for it, lifting her head off the table and taking it nearly all the way in one go. He straddled her head, trapping her between his powerful thighs like he was trying to squeeze her brain out. She didn’t mind. It would be the best way to die probably, senses filled with his musk and pre-cum running down the back of her throat. It tasted of salt, and Sombra moved her tongue along Reaper’s cock, feeling every vein in his skin.

Absorbed by the sensation, the feeling of a tongue on her clit made her give a tiny _mrph!_ of surprise. Widow had barely given her time to adjust before diving hard into her pussy, powerful muscle making its way through pre-fucked walls.

They were already trying to get her to come again those bastards. Sombra glared up at Reaper, but the masked just looked back at her, unreadable. Usually she could understand him better, but this angle didn’t really help with body language unless the body language was saying “suck my dick.”

So she did. She closed her eyes and concentrated, her own exhaustion a barrier that kept her from getting too aroused too fast, no matter how skillfully Widow ate her out.

“That’s right, keep that up,” Reaper hummed. He was leaning down hard so that she didn’t even have to lift her head as she sucked.

Fuck these two for working so well together. The lazy banter was nearly a formality; Sombra bet even if they weren’t speaking to each other they would pick up every cue and find a way to fuck her in perfect tandem. A symphony of in sync intimacy.

Sombra’s own thighs tightened around Widow’s head, but that was something for the hacker to tolerate, not her. Widow pressed down hard, using her forearms, her mouth expertly lapping and bringing Sombra so close.

The heat of her collar was unbearable. Fabric was bunched all around her sweating arms but the collar was the _pièce de résistance_ , clinging directly to her neck and adding to the choking sensation. Oh the things a woman suffers for fashion.

The choking increased, Reaper getting close enough that he started thrusting into her mouth instead of just letting her do her job. She suppressed the need to gag, all thoughts of her collar gone when she couldn’t take the mouth inside her pussy anymore. She bucked a second time, using her self-control not to bite down on Reaper’s cock.

At least, not too much.

She panted through her nose, Reaper still using her mouth, and felt the heat from her second orgasm scald her. It all seemed to be wrapping up when the cock she was sucking suddenly withdrew.

Whining at the loss, she leaned forward almost like she was trying to chase after it.

“No more treats,” Reaper told her, and she made another noise of complaint.

“After all,” Widow said, sliding into Sombra’s view for the first time in ages, “we still have things to do. Can’t be finishing too early, can we?” She lovingly wiped a drop of spit that had formed at the corner of Sombra’s mouth.

Sombra’s chest heaved as she tried to get her breath back. They couldn’t possibly mean…?

“…Again?” she managed gasp out.

“You got is sweetheart.” Reaper leaned down to coo against her ear. “Unless our little troublemaker doesn’t think she can handle it.”

Sombra opened and closed her mouth a few times. Two had already left her exhausted, gasping, and a little teary-eyed while still chained to the table. _Now_ they were actually throwing curveballs at her, and they knew that. She felt a fist of resolution curl in her stomach.

“Ha!” she said, just enough showmanship left in her to manage a laugh. “Good one.”

Reaper cocked his head in a way that could only mean he was smirking. He withdrew from her, trading places with Widowmaker once again. Soon he was between her legs, raking his claws on her inner thighs just to watch her squirm.

Sombra tilted her head, distracting herself with the sight of Widowmaker. The sniper was slinking from her catsuit, pulling one shoulder after the other until her upper half was free, then wiggling up like a snake escaping its skin. She peeled it off her feet, and dropped it where she’d discarded Sombra’s underthings.

“Like what you see, _chérie_?” she chuckled, seeing how Sombra was enjoying the show.

“Meh,” Sombra shrugged as much as the cable would allow. “I’ve seen better.”

Widow chuckled again, leaning to bite Sombra’s ear in punishment. Her fingers peeled at the soaked fabric of her collar, lifting it to place nips along her throat. She did it just as Reaper gave a particularly hard pinch, and Sombra whined under their onslaught.

Then Widow was over her, the dark fur of her pussy pressing into Sombra’s nose as the hacker immediately resumed her work. She ate with eagerness, the taste of her partner threatening to arouse her despite the lethargy in her body. Widow’s cunt was already engorged with arousal, her clit soft and fat when Sombra gave it an experimental nibble.

She didn’t get long to enjoy her snack. Reaper’s cock poked her idly, finding its way to her loose insides. There was no resistance, and Sombra didn’t even have enough fight in her to make it interesting. They’d fucked her to oblivion until she was pliant under digging hands and forked tongues.

Sombra moaned has he sunk all the way in. She bobbed her head, but didn’t kick or move while she took him, her muscles good for nothing but accepting the pressure that came upon her. Widow’s hand held her head loosely as the sniper sat on her face and tossed her own head back.

Reaper thrust. It hit good the first time, making her squeal like when Widow had first found her g-spot. She gasped around Widow’s cunt, not enough air in the world while Reaper’s spit-soaked dick pounded her limp form.

It was oddly thrilling to now have no control, to simply be taken along for the ride as her only responsibility was getting Widow off. She nibbled and poked and pressed her tongue all the way inside, and _finally_ she felt the sniper shudder above her. Sombra kept going, helping her ride it out to the finish.

All her concentration was lost when her own orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. It was building with each successive thrust but she didn’t have the strength to hold it back anymore after what she’d been through. She hollered, screaming as she tightened around Reaper and feeling him finish a moment later.

The last few moments were impossible to detangle from one another, Sombra’s mind scratched raw with arousal. She licked her lips in an attempt to clean herself, but that was all.

Dimly, she could feel Reaper withdraw from her, and then Widow get off her face. The two swam into view, their faces like that of cats who had just discovered a particularly helpless little mouse.

“I think…” Sombra panted. “Your captive…has learned her lesson.”

Widow grinned. “That’s good to hear,” and wiped a wet strand of hair from Sombra’s face.

“So, what do you think?” Reaper asked, tucking himself back into his leather pants. “Should we just leave her here for the cleaning crew to find? I’m sure Doomfist would have a lot of questions…”

“Oh yes, I’m sure he would,” Widow replied.

“Nooooo…” Sombra moaned. “You guys are meeaaaaannnnn…”

“And what we just did to you _wasn’t_ mean?” Reaper asked with a note of humor.

Sombra smiled sleepily, but didn’t reply.

The next few minutes floated by Sombra like a dream. The restraints around her wrists were loosened, but she didn’t take the effort to rub them, just letting them swing back to her sides. There was a gentle cleaning, and someone re-buttoned the front of her jacket.

When it was clear she wasn’t able to move under her own power, she was scooped into a pair of strong arms. She didn’t open her eyes to check who it was, preferring to let it remain a kindly mystery. The warm chest carried her through the halls, and she was glad that her jacket was just long enough to cover her butt since no one had put her panties back on her.

Gently, she was deposited in what could only be her room, the softness of her bed holding her like an old friend. Before the lights were switched off, she felt a light kiss on the side of her temple, and she smiled.


End file.
